


the exit signs i missed

by permutative



Category: ITZY (Band), NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, Friendship, M/M, Multi, Slice of Life, Teen Romance, just a lot of music and driving tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:41:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28001826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/permutative/pseuds/permutative
Summary: “If you canalwaysget a ride,” Chaeryeong says slowly, “then why me?” She isn’t stupid. She often sees the two of them together in the halls, flanked by Donghyuck Lee—star of theater productions—and Jeno Lee—star of the cross-country team—on either side.As for her? It’s a good day when people don’t confuse her for Chaeyeon, and it's hard to escape from her sister’s shadow when they’re only a grade apart.Jaemin sighs. “Chaeryeong,” he says, gentle. Yangyang takes a vicious bite out of his burger. “Isn’t it obvious?”(Or: No one ever said first loves were easy, right?)
Relationships: Lee Chaeryeong/Liu Yang Yang, Lee Chaeryeong/Liu Yang Yang/Na Jaemin, Lee Chaeryeong/Na Jaemin, Liu Yang Yang/Na Jaemin
Comments: 30
Kudos: 93
Collections: WIP OLYMPICS: WINTER 2020/21





	the exit signs i missed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yoonbot (iverins)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iverins/gifts).



>   
> > this is set in the usa, vaguely the northeast/w^stch^st^r county  
> > i went by september cutoffs, hence why chaeryeong/yangyang are a grade below jaemin ^_*  
> > here's [proof](https://twitter.com/najaeminpics/status/1321777232478494720) that jaemin and yangyang know each other, here's [proof](https://twitter.com/jaeminpic/status/1314911595601047553) that jaemin and chaeryeong know each other  
> > this is for sapphy, who once tweeted about wanting jaemin/yangyang or jaemin/chaeryeong fic. unfortunately this ended up being something else entirely...  
> > sapphy, i just want to say that you've been a bright spot in my fandom experience for literally half a decade and i feel like i grew up following your writing & tinhet/tinhat agendas! sorry that this is kind of terribad but at least it exists

_He was thinking that maybe love was like starting a fire with two sticks. You've always heard that it's possible, but how likely is it?_

— Criss Cross, Lynne Rae Perkins

—

`October 2017 `  
Chaeryeong ducks into the car, hood pulled down with only the bottom half of her face visible. She’s always been the cautious type—Chaeyeon claims this began ever since she started having night terrors at the tender age of three—and this is no exception.

“Who’re you hiding from?” Jaemin reaches out to pull Chaeryeong’s hood away. He smiles, far too pleased with himself.

Chaeryeong shakes out her hair, then begins to gather it together to form a ponytail; the familiar action gives her hands something to do, at the very least. “You _know_ who.” She takes a look out the window, gazing out across the parking lot. “You should go before someone sees.”

Someone being, of course, Chaeyeon, or Chaeyeon’s irritating friends, or anyone who’d tell Chaeyeon _hey, I thought I saw your sister sitting with Jaemin Na in his Porsche last Friday—_ Chaeryeong stops the thought right there. She has enough bad dreams at night to have to deal with daytime spirals on top of that.

Jaemin shrugs and begins to start the car. “Of course.” Almost immediately, whatever song he’d been playing earlier begins to blast out.

“Seriously?” Chaeryeong asks, doubting whether she can be heard over the _CAN’T KEEP MY DICK IN MY PANTS, AY_ screaming from the speakers. Jaemin scrambles to pause it, eyes widening in surprise, but the damage has already been done. The resulting silence seems even more deafening, in contrast.

Jaemin rubs the back of his neck, giving her a sheepish smile. “Don’t mind that.” He hands over his phone, open to the Apple Music app. “Look, why don’t you choose a song?”

“Your music taste is even worse than your sneaker habit,” Chaeryeong says, swiping out of Jaemin’s eloquently titled _bops 🔥🔥🔥_ playlist and scrolling to the bottom where she has all of her songs saved under _car._ Half the songs come from Yangyang, and most of them are just as trashy as Jaemin’s picks, but in Chaeryeong’s _completely_ objective and 100% accurate opinion they sound flawless anyways.

As “A Thousand Miles” begins to play, she sighs and settles back into the seat, the back of her skull thudding against the headrest. She keeps her eyes closed as Jaemin maneuvers out of the parking lot, only peering out to the clear blue sky once he’s reached the highway.

Something’s off. They’re both a little awkward, like this, like a stool missing its third leg.

“Where are we going?” Jaemin asks. He hums along to the music while waiting for her response.

“I don’t care,” Chaeryeong replies. She takes a look back at Jaemin, then, at his one silvery piercing and his Stussy hoodie and his careful, careful eyes as he watches her watch him. She can’t see Jaemin’s sneakers, but she can imagine them, nonetheless: the bright, vivid colorways, the leather crisp and white and new. The one thing everyone knows Jaemin treats with caution.

After all, this is a secret.

“Just make sure we’re back before it gets dark,” she adds, looking out the window. “Shouldn’t you keep your eyes on the road?”

—

`January 2017 `  
Chaeryeong doesn’t know exactly how she had ended up in this predicament either. If anyone had gone up to her at the beginning of freshman year and told her she’d end up befriending Jaemin Na and Yangyang Liu, she probably would’ve thought they were hazing her. If they had done the same at the start of sophomore year, she would’ve given them a look of disgust; the rumors about Jaemin’s vaping setting off three extra fire alarms within two months had begun in full force, by that point.

(Yangyang’s reputation had been saved from the fallout, but _still._ )

Yet if this hypothetical person had asked Chaeryeong about Jaemin or Yangyang at the beginning of junior year… _That_ would’ve been different, most definitely.

It begins with one of the hallmarks of the high school experience: the standardized test. That Saturday, they all had shown up at the local SAT testing center for different reasons: Chaeryeong’s parents wanted her to take extra subject tests; Yangyang hoped to increase his super score; as for Jaemin—well, rumor has it he’d gotten some horrid score on the ACT and wanted to swear off standardized testing altogether.

Not that Chaeryeong knew any of that at the time, really. All she knows is this:

> A) She’s about to freeze her face off, because it’s January.  
>  B) Her sister can’t pick her up for another forty minutes because of dance rehearsal, the same one she had skipped today to take the Math II test.  
>  C) Jaemin Na’s Porsche—everyone can recognize his car from a mile away, regardless of how well they know him—idles by the entrance of the testing center. That can only mean trouble.  
>  D) She’s starting to think inside of her head like a multiple-choice question, a sure sign that the temperature outside is inversely proportional to the amount of brain damage she’s currently experiencing, or something.

The Porsche’s windows roll down. Chaeryeong blinks, a little surprised, as Yangyang Liu grins at her from the shotgun. “You need a ride?” he asks. “It’s pretty cold out.”

And, well. Jaemin on his own means one thing—a pathway leading to trouble, if the gossip Chaeryeong overhears from Heejin and Hyunjin has any truth to it—but everyone knows that Yangyang Liu is a _good_ kid. She’s seen him in the halls: always laughing something off, charming teachers and students alike, a golden boy. 

So Chaeryeong takes in Yangyang’s bright smile, the way his hair messily falls over his headband— _charming,_ she thinks, again—and goes with her gut, against anything she would have expected.

“Thanks,” she says, stepping into the car. She makes sure to type a text out to her sister, a vaguely worded _i got my friend to give me a ride,_ so that Chaeyeon doesn’t worry.

When Chaeryeong looks up, she realizes the car hasn’t even started moving yet. Instead, Jaemin and Yangyang are arguing over who gets to control the aux.

“Come on,” Yangyang says, Jaemin rolling his eyes at him all the while, “Are you sure ‘SAD!’ is the best thing to listen to after we’ve just finished—”

“Just do rock paper scissors or something,” Chaeryeong interrupts. The exam has already turned her mind into mush, and the bickering doesn’t help much.

Jaemin and Yangyang both turn around and look at her, and the combined effect of their stares is really something else. She continues, nonetheless, voice steady. “That’s what I used to do with my sister.” _When I was ten,_ she doesn’t add, although she’s certainly thinking it.

“Hm, why don’t we just let Chaeryeong choose?” Jaemin says sweetly. He’s staring at Yangyang, but his body’s still angled towards her.

Yangyang stares at Jaemin for a couple of moments. “Fine,” he agrees, turning to the backseat. “What song do _you_ want to play?”

Chaeryeong blinks. “Honestly…”

They end up opting for silence.

Not that it stays quiet for long with the way Yangyang jokes around with Jaemin and gently coaxes Chaeryeong into the conversation, eyes darting back and forth between the two of them. She finds that hearing Yangyang’s laughter mix with Jaemin’s low voice sounds nicer than any song, makes something bubble up within her all frothy and giddy. Like soda from a shaken-up bottle, promising an explosive sugar rush.

So, yeah. That’s her superhero villain origin story or something. Not that she had any clue what she had gotten into, at the time, but isn’t that how most things start anyway?

—

`April 2018 `  
If Chaeryeong has learned anything from AP Physics, it’s that any action has an equal and opposite reaction. Case in point: Jaemin gave her a ride that one day, Yangyang in tow, and now he’s standing outside her math classroom, waiting to ask for a favor in return. Yangyang smiles by his side, looking far too pleased for someone who has just accosted her after she had been subjected to forty-seven minutes of mindless calculus.

“I’ll catch up with you later,” she tells Ryujin, who’s busy glaring at Jaemin. Sometimes Chaeryeong forgets that Jaemin somehow managed to piss off every girl’s sports team in the school: Ryujin from field hockey, Hyunjin from soccer, and, most famously, Heejin from volleyball. All of whom, of course, happen to be Chaeryeong’s closest friends, because that’s just her luck. Even Yangyang’s charisma can’t overpower jock girl hatred.

Chaeryeong grabs Jaemin’s arm and tugs him in the opposite direction, away from all the students who are heading towards the cafeteria for lunch. She doesn’t have to look behind to know that Yangyang will follow.

They end up in the west wing stairwell, a place that most students—including her—tend to avoid due to the amount of suspicious activity occurring underneath the steps. Suspicious activity of the almost-triggering-the-fire-alarm-once-again type. Today, oddly enough, no one’s there.

“What is it?” Chaeryeong asks, rounding on Jaemin. She struggles to make eye contact. A week has passed since the Incident; she hasn’t spoken to either of them for almost a month.

“We need a ride,” Jaemin says. Chaeryeong would’ve expected some fidgeting or nervousness, but instead, he remains steady, still. “Wanna go to Five Guys? I’ll pay.”

Chaeryeong can’t bear looking at Jaemin for much longer, shifting her gaze towards Yangyang, instead. He doesn’t meet her eyes, and that, in itself, seems telling enough.

So Chaeryeong drives both of them, even though she’s only had her license for three months and _technically_ shouldn’t be driving anyone besides herself. Yangyang calls shotgun, as usual. From what little she can glimpse of him from the front mirror, Jaemin’s staring at both of them from the backseat.

Chaeryeong isn’t going to mention The Incident. She will _not._ She refuses to. She—

“Tell me,” Chaeryeong says, once they’ve all sat down with fries and burgers, “how bad was it?”

 _It_ could refer to any number of things, but all three of them know she’s referring to the one, singular, capital I, it. Chaeryeong had heard from Ryujin who’d swapped rumors with Beomgyu who learned from Jeongin who had, apparently, come across the gossip straight from the source—golden boy Yangyang Liu himself.

In the spirit of Ernest Hemingway, the six-word summary of The Incident could best be stated as the following: _Jaemin’s parents found him kissing Yangyang._ Sure, it leaves out all the grisly details—like how apparently they’d been making out in Jaemin’s driveway, Yangyang pressed against the car door (yeah, she’s never going to look at that Porsche in the same way again) or that Jaemin’s mom wasn’t even mad about the whole “dating Yangyang” thing (Chaeryeong isn’t sure if Jaemin’s propensity for making out with and subsequently pissing off jocks could actually be considered dating)—but, well. If she thinks about the minutiae for too long, she might get another headache.

So, anyway: Yangyang shrugs. “Not bad, really.” He winks at Chaeryeong. “They just, uh, grounded me for a month because _apparently_ skipping out on tutoring is a no-go.”

“My parents didn’t care, either,” Jaemin adds. He bites into one of the fries, then dabs at his fingers with a napkin, prim and proper. “Or, like. They aren’t going to let me drive the Porsche for the rest of the semester, but it’s whatever. I can always hitch a ride with someone else.”

Chaeryeong remains silent for another moment or two as she chews through a bite of her burger. There’s something that’s almost hedonistic about Five Guys to her, the amalgamation of grease and crispy, delicious things. She grew up watching her mother police her own body to the nearest centimeter and witnessed her father aspiring for high-brow things, a finer life. Now she’s sitting across from Jaemin Na, who crashed his first car—an Audi—and received a Porsche in replacement, and she’s right back where she started. Eating some fast food like the common American, still reeling from a little envy.

“If you can _always_ get a ride,” Chaeryeong says slowly, “then why me?” She isn’t stupid. She often sees the two of them together in the halls, flanked by Donghyuck Lee—star of theater productions—and Jeno Lee—star of the cross-country team—on either side. Shining so bright that no one can possibly ignore them.

As for her? It’s a good day when people don’t confuse her for Chaeyeon, and it's hard to escape from her sister’s shadow when they’re only a grade apart.

Jaemin sighs. “Chaeryeong,” he says, gentle. Yangyang takes a vicious bite out of his burger. “Isn’t it obvious?”

—

`October 2017 `  
Let’s go back to where we started:

Jaemin’s driving, Chaeryeong’s in shotgun, Yangyang’s nonexistent, for at least a moment. The trees rush by, large estates slowly morphing into respectable townhomes as they escape from the confines of their town, their county.

The last strains of “A Thousand Miles” fade away, and the song switches. This next one is Yangyang’s pick, a moody 88rising knockoff.

Jaemin clears his throat. His eyes actually focus on the road for once, a warning sign like no other that something’s off. Chaeryeong braces herself for the worst, not quite sure what she’s anticipating in the first place.

“Today,” he begins. He pauses, about as hesitant as it’ll ever get for someone like Jaemin Na. “Is this a date?”

Chaeryeong closes her eyes, wondering exactly how Jaemin managed to pinpoint the question she had dreaded and desired the most. _If I can’t love you no one can,_ Keshi croons softly.

Her answer is obvious enough.

—

`November 2018 `  
The start of senior year brings a hell like no other. Between slogging through college applications, scrambling to finish schoolwork, and filming her dance supplement on the weekends, Chaeryeong barely has any time to think.

Sometimes, while she’s walking through the halls with the spare bit of introspective time she saves for passing periods, she remembers Jaemin’s advice for her senior year. It had been the last gathering of the summer, one final goodbye before he’d board the plane heading for the west coast.

 _Make sure you savor it while it lasts,_ Jaemin had said, looking wistful as he watched Yangyang from the other side of the room.

Yeah, right.

The only class she shares with Yangyang is English; in the rest, she’s ensconced by her bubble of Hyunjin, Heejin, and Ryujin, the three of them mostly unknowing of anything involving Jaemin or Yangyang at all. So she tries to forget about Yangyang, no longer having anything in common with her with Jaemin gone, and Jaemin himself, who’s out in California making a new life.

That all changes after she submits her early round of applications. Not that the two things are related at all, but they connect in her mind, unbidden. It’s only a couple of days into November when her English teacher announces a new assignment: a partner project, where they’re required to visit a local museum together.

Chaeryeong can _feel_ the weight of Yangyang’s gaze against the side of her face. She turns her head away deliberately, cursing the fact that Lee is close to Liu in the alphabet.

“Let’s work together,” Yangyang says, straightforward, as soon as the bell rings. “I can give you a ride to the museum if you’d like.”

Chaeryeong glances around the classroom, mostly for show yet also because she can’t believe she’s caving in this fast. But then again, it’s _Yangyang._

“Sure,” she replies. How bad could it be?

—

`June 2018`  
Sometimes she wonders what would’ve happened if she said yes to Jaemin.

—

`December 2018 `  
Chaeryeong realizes that she’s never entered Yangyang’s car before. It’s a modest compromise between Jaemin’s flashy Porsche and the used Toyota she shares with her sister, a balancing point between the two of them.

“Music?” Yangyang asks. Chaeryeong shrugs, indifferent, so he just sets his library on shuffle.

It’s weird. She keeps on having this prickling sensation at the back of her neck like someone’s watching her. Like someone _should_ be watching the two of them from the backseat. The feeling doesn’t dissipate until Yangyang attempts to start a conversation.

“Have you talked to Jaemin recently?” he asks. The one commonality between the two of them, maybe, ever since Yangyang had forsaken his ballet slippers for soccer cleats.

“No.” She kicks her backpack further away from her then attempts to stretch out her legs. “I’ve seen the Snapchat stories, though.” Yangyang knows what she’s talking about: glimpses of pretty cafes and bright streets, that one boy’s smile constantly beside Jaemin’s, Jaemin himself looking like something touched by the sun now that he isn’t here.

Chaeryeong stares out the window. The sky is so grey.

“Renjun Huang,” Yangyang says slowly, rolling the name through his mouth. The ever-persistent tag superimposed on the photos Jaemin posts. “Kind of surprising, honestly.”

“Really?” she replies. Chaeryeong has long since given up on trying to guess at the actions of Jaemin Na. Yangyang’s not much better, either, and she’s still in the middle of trying to decide whether he’s jealous of this Renjun guy or not when he continues.

“He’s from, like, Florida.” Emphasis on _Florida,_ which is neither the northeast nor the west coast, so ultimately irrelevant in their eyes. Home to Disneyland, or something. “It’s just different, I guess.”

“Of course it is,” Chaeryeong replies. Six months ago, she’d been wondering if she made a mistake by saying no to Jaemin that day. Two years ago, she hadn’t talked to Yangyang for half a decade. “Things change, don’t they?”

The playlist finally switches onto something she enjoys, an Usher throwback that feels a little cheesy if she focuses too hard on it. Chaeryeong doesn’t want to concentrate, doesn’t want to _think_ , really, so instead she reaches over and increases the volume.

“Yeah,” Yangyang agrees, as she turns the dial. The bass thuds in her ears, thrumming in her heart. “They do.”

But, hey: at least the music doesn’t stop.

—

`August 2014`  
Let’s go back to the _real_ beginning:

Before Yangyang Liu was the charmer of everyone’s heart, the National Honors Society president, the boy with an irresistible smile and an unbeatable penalty kick, he had been Chaeryeong Lee’s first friend. They spent their hours at dance rehearsals and ESL together, Yangyang’s house next to hers in the poorest part of their posh town.

If Chaeryeong closes her eyes she can recount about a hundred facts she knows about Yangyang, not because she tried to commit them to memory, but just from the sheer proximity of habit. The way he scrunches up his nose for no reason, how he laughs until he cries, his favorite time of day (the worst time, early afternoon), and his favorite color (red).

It’s hard to unlearn people, she thinks. With Jaemin that fact had festered within her like an open sore, like something aching and raw.

With Yangyang it’s something else entirely. Laughing and smiling on the way back home from the museum, airdropped memes in the middle of English class, everything so different from one, two, six years ago but still holding that same comfort. Like replaying a song she hadn’t heard for a long time, one she’d thought she already squeezed all the emotional value out of, yet feeling at ease all the same.

Maybe most people in this town have some shared history, but with Yangyang—as weak as their connection may seem—Chaeryeong feels it the most.

—

`January 2019 `  
Heejin nearly collapses with relief as they walk out of their last midyear exam. “I can’t believe it’s _over_ ,” she says, leaning into Hyunjin’s shoulder with a faux-swoon.

Ryujin rolls her eyes, half-annoyed and half-fond. “We still have half of the school year left,” she points out.

“Yeah, but it’s _senior spring,_ ” Heejin insists. “Hashtag-YOLO or whatever, right?” She looks to Chaeryeong for support, the way she always does when Hyunjin and Ryujin think she’s said something ludicrous.

“Yeah, whatever,” Chaeryeong agrees easily. From across the hallway, Yangyang makes eye contact with her, then winks. _Cute,_ she thinks absently, not even bothering to suppress the smile she sends back. She can feel Ryujin giving her a contemplative look, but, well. She ignores it, for the moment. There’s no need for caution anymore.

After all, Heejin’s right. It’s senior spring. Chaeryeong is past the college application essays, she passed the SATs, her sister has graduated and goes to college halfway across the country. If she doesn’t live right now, then when will she ever?

With that thought, Chaeryeong steps into the second semester of senior year.

—

`April 2019 `  
It’s the end of April vacation week, a stretch of lazy feel-good days that had rushed by Chaeryeong fast, too fast, yet in the moment seemed as slow-moving as taffy. Yesterday, while dropping her back from the party at Beomgyu Choi’s house, Yangyang had paused at the foot of her driveway and asked, as she was stepping out of the car, “do you want to go see the sunrise tomorrow?”

She had slammed the door shut unnecessarily hard out of shock. Yangyang had opened his car windows and repeated the question.

Now they’re at the town park, up at the top of the highest hill as colors flood across the sky. Chaeryeong’s too sleep-deprived for coherent thought, just watches quietly as orange melds into pink, then purple. Such a messy and beautiful thing — surprisingly special for something that occurred every day.

It’s only once the blue early morning sky begins to present itself that Yangyang breaks their silence. “AP week is soon,” he says, turning to face her. His face is so, so bright.

Chaeryeong averts her gaze. “Who cares.” She twists her fingers into the grass beneath her, pulling out blades on instinct. A bad habit she had never unlearned. If there’s anything she’s realized about senior year, it’s that: “No one cares anymore.”

Yangyang laughs at that. Not the real thing, but he tries for it, anyway. “You’re ready to leave, huh.”

College, just a couple of months away, promising freedom and escape. The loudest siren song she’s ever heard.

“Aren’t you?” Chaeryeong returns, too curious to avoid watching Yangyang’s face any longer. She looks closely, tries to understand the nervous crease between his brows before he smooths it out.

“Well.” Yangyang pauses. He’s looking directly at her; he’s never had a problem with eye contact. “There are still some things I want to do first.”

—

`June 2019 `  
When Jaemin comes back from college at the end of the year, Chaeryeong’s driving once again. Yangyang in the shotgun, like always. The playlist is _still_ in contention.

“Are you _seriously_ going to play another Travis Scott song?” Chaeryeong asks, feeling mildly affronted. “Even your Keshi phase was better than this.”

“How dare you insult Keshi,” Yangyang says, hand over his heart in mock outrage. “At least I don’t still listen to Marina and the Diamonds like it’s twenty-twelve—”

“Why don’t we let Jaemin pick?” Chaeryeong interrupts. She looks over her shoulder briefly to check up on Jaemin, who’s gazing out the window with an unreadable expression on his face.

He recommends some Sasha Sloan song that they’ve all heard before, soft Spotify-core background music. The car stays quiet for a couple of moments as they listen to her sing _I was just a kid back then._

Jaemin breaks the silence first. Chaeryeong doesn’t look at him, but she can hear the smile in his voice as he says, “So it seems like senior year went well, huh?”

Chaeryeong glances over at Yangyang, who’s giving her this shy, sheepish smile. Different from the bright-teethed things he broadcasts throughout the school: something special, something secret. She wonders if Jaemin can see.

“Yeah,” Chaeryeong replies, eyes darting back towards the road. Sometimes there's nowhere else to go but forward. “I guess it did.”

**Author's Note:**

> if you made it to the end of this you're a real one. comments are really appreciated!! 
> 
> feel free to say hi to me on [twt](http://twitter.com/storyboxed) \+ [cc](http://curiouscat.qa/axiomatic)


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